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YSTERY OF THE DOME. 



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BY FRANCIS C. LONG. 



WASHINGTON, D. 0.: 

Beardsley & Snodgrass, Printers. 

3 8 7 5. 




A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Cautn % iirst-tijt |tfcai. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, ill the year 187"), by 

Francis C. Long, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress. 



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CANTO THE FIRST-THE DEFEAT. 

Dread War bad reared its gory crest 

From oceaD East to ocean West; 

With blood-red hand, and flaming brand 

He lashed his steeds athwart the land ! 

Sown deeply had been the dragon's teeth, 

And the sword of strife leaped from its sheath, 

And warriors clad in Blue and Gray 

Rose as in ancient Cadmus' day. 

From Rocky Mountain's endless snows, 

From Memphremagog's banks they rose : 

From Florida's soft everglades, 

And Louisana's dreamy shades ; 

From scarred Sierras of the West, 



t> A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

To blue Katahadin's frowning crest: 
From deep Ontario's sounding shores, 
And eke where towering Shasta glowers 
Grim soldiers marched in stern array, 
Mid bragging drums, and clarions' bray. 
In North and South the widow's wail 
Was borne upon the passing gale; 
And bones of hosts of valiant men 
La} 7 bleaching in morass and fen — 
E'en Freedom reeled upon her throne, 
And shuddered at the tocsin's tone! 

A Jason rose in the land's behoof, 

And yoked the bull with the brazen hoof ; 

And plowed the soil with a doughty might, 

And scattered the foe from left to right. 

The hero's praise let the nation's sing, 

The hero's praise let the welkin ring ; 

Let his name stand high on fame's bead-roll. 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 7 

Aud his fame resound from pole to pole ! 
Let his deeds be sung in every clime, 
And his mem'ry live till the end of time. 
Lo ! the nation's heart shall be his shrine ! 
As the evening star his worth shall shine; 
For he bore the sacred flag of the free, 
And he fought the fight of Liberty ! 

The battle had raged the whole day through, 
Between the armies of Gray and Blue ; 
The cannons roared, and the bugles brayed, 
The soldiers cheered, aud the stallions neighed, 
And the plain was strewn with dying and dead, 
And a shroud-like cloud o'er the field was spread, 
As on we pressed to the hillock's crest, 
Where, dimly seen in the darkling Wesr, 
The spires of Petersburg seemed to frown 
In the smoke of the battle so dense and brown ! 

Our colonel that day had led a charge 
On a powerful courser, roan, and large ; 



O A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

He frowued as black as the midnight sky, 

And a terrible ealmuess dwelt in his eye 

As he recklessly plunged in the desperate fight, 

And wielded his steel with a doughty might: 

Of all who met in the field that day, 

And parried a stroke with a monUnet 

His blow was the strongest, his shout the loudest ! 

His sabre the longest, his steed the proudest ! 

The spring torrent rushing from mountain and hill 
Overwhelms in its volume its rival, the rill ; 
So the foe man met us in deadly array, 
A hedge that glistened with steel and with gray — 
As red as our blood were the gules of his bars, 
As bright as our sabres the sheen of his stars; 
As sullen his mien, and as vengeful his yell, 
As the howl and the growl of the watch-dogs of 
hell! 

Lo ! the bison surrounded by wolves on the plain, 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 9 

Quivers with fury, and charges amain — 

His voice is the thunder! his eye gleams with 

wrath, 
And he whelms like a whirlwind the foe in his 

path ! 
The timid may flee, and the weak stand aloof, 
For the bravest are crushed 'neath the weight of 

his hoof; 
But his foes pinched with hunger beleaguer him 

round. 
And bury their fangs in his flanks at each bound ; 
Till overcome by numbers, by toil, and by pain, 
He reels, and he falls on the blood besprent plain ! 

Thus gathered the foeman our squadrons around, 
And hotly contested the vantage of ground ; 
While backward we staggered, whelmed and 

pressed, 
By the terrible tide that knew no rest, 
We rocked and swayed in the storm that passed 



10 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

As tbe forest reels in the cyclone's blast ; 

The green hills shuddered and shook with dread, 

As when Encelladus turns in his bed. 

Maywood, our colonel, fell and swooned 
Blanched and ghastly from many a wound ; 
And his neighing war-steed plunged headloug 
Into the surging, hideous throng. 
And we bore him sadly from the field, 
While the din of battle wildly pealed, 
And sullen and slow was our retreat, 
With random shots, and unwilling feet, 
And half the dead of our routed band 
Were we forced to leave in the victor's hand, 
Whose snarling guns, behind on the hill, 
Continued to harass our column still. 

Near the silvery Appomattox's wave 
We dug that day full many a grave; 
And laid our comrades down to their sleep 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 11 

Where pines and cedars might o'er them weep, 

And the vernal wind a tribute sing, 

And the votive flowers crown them in spring ; 

And the vocal waters along the shore 

A requiem murmur forevermore! 

Brave May wood was wounded even to death, 

In terrible agony came each breath ; 

But his cast was of that Spartan mould 

That does not quake as the flesh grows cold; 

But with compressed lips, and scarce a moan 

Await the touch of the dread unknown. 

Gloomy and silent he ever had been, 

Valiant afield, and loved by his men; 

And few among us e'er had the nerve 

To force the wall of his cold reserve : 

His fine cut features tho' sad were stern, 

A fire in his soul seemed ever to burn ; 

He seemed one under some awful doom, 

And our hearts grew warm to this man of gloom. 



12 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

A couch we made him, of boughs of pine, 

On the river's bank at the day's decline, 

The surgeon ministered to his need, 

But the searching probe he did not heed. 

His deep, sad eyes gazed vacantly round, 

As one who wakes from a deathly swound. 

" Are they fatal, these wounds ?" at length he said. 

The gray-bearded surgeon shook his head, 

And answered : " Nay, that I do not know : 

If I can staunch the internal flow 

Of this gunshot-wound, here, in your breast, 

You'll weather the storm — hope for the best." 

May wood returned with his old time sneer: 

"You bid me hope when the grave is near, 

Who hope had none when my arm was strong; 

Who hope have none, save to do no wrong — 

For my country's cause to-day to perish 

Is the only hope that I can cherish !" 

His head sank back, and he calmly slept 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 13 

While around his couch a watch we kept, 
And the white-crossed nurses moved about 
Like vampires in some hideous bout, 
And the surgeons looked ghastly and grim 
As their knives, and saws hacked thew and limb; 
The bare-armed stewards as ghouls appeared, 
Haggard with toil, and gore besmeared ; 
While the sigh, the prayer, the oath, the groan, 
Together arose to Heaven's throne. 

Few were the words that the silence broke, 
But friend to friend in a whisper spoke ; 
We talked of fording the Eapidan 
What time in auger its waters ran, 
And hill and forest returned the shock 
Or the tide that plunged o'er sand and rock : 
Like a hound in chase it seemed to bray, 
And froth and pant as it roamed for prey ! 

As it swept along with vengeful roar, 
And licked the rocks on either shore : 



14 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

The waves engulfed a rider and steed, 
And bore them down with furious speed, 
And all regarded the soldier lost 
Who saw him there by the surges tost ; 
The drowning soldier cried for aid, 
And his comrades all looked on dismayed ; 
Till Maywood dared the turbulent tide, 
And its hungry maw boldly defied, 
And with manly arm he fought the wave 
And snatched the man from a watery grave. 
Of a thousand deeds we talked beside, 
And we spoke of them with a soldier's pride — 
Let others speak of him as they would, 
We'd found him valiant, and kind, and good. 
Then Maywood rousing, said, "Boys, I know- 
That ne'er again shall I face the foe; 
My pulse grows feebler with each new breath, 
And my heart is chill with the damp of death. 

Just lay me under yon cypress tree, 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 15 

And fire a volley — enough for ine ! 

What ! crying, Major, and, Captain, you 1 

There, Sergeant, desist, be a soldier true. 

Your hands, old fellows — 'twill be the last — 

Ah, gently ! or I may go too fast. 

Fie, Major ! this is beyond belief 

That you turn your face from your parting chief ! 

When Galba shook Meca3nas' hand 

He shut his eyes. Here, Corporal Brand, 

This ring with setting of sapphire hue 

Present to your girl, if you find her true — 

I doubt if she get it — nay, don't grieve. 

Doctor, this package to you I'll leave : 

I have a wound no surgeon can heal ; 

But when I slumber you'll break the seal. 

Some logs on the fire — it grows so dark ! 

Did you hear Boots and Saddles then, boys ? 

Hark! 
Good bye ! — one word — when I'm under the sod 



1(> A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Be true to the flag ! to yourselves, and to God ! 
The lurid light of the camp-fire then 
Showed tears on the beards of sunbrowued men ! 
And the moon that peered thro' the leaves o'erhead 
Grew pale as she gazed on the face of the dead ! 

We buried him in the midnight gloom, 
A sentinel cypress guards his tomb: 
The night wind sighed in the boughs o'erhead, 
And mournfully whispered a tale of the dead. 
The murmurous leaves they whispered long 
Kehearsing a tale of a fearful wrong ! 
How a man was lured by a woman's smile, 
How a life was lost by a woman's guile, 
How a lover as brilliant as a Guise 
Was betrayed a coquette's pride to please, 
How blood was shed, and a heart was broke — 
All this the whispering cypress spoke, 
And its sobs arose on the evening air, 
And its tears gleamed bright in our torches' glare ! 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 



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CANTO THE SECOND-THE CONFESSION. 

My loves and hates are botli extremes, 
They are no tender maiden's dreams ! 
But passions fierce, beyond control 
That thro' my being surge and roll ! 
Love leaves me not as cold as snow, 
But fans my bosom all aglow ; 
For I'm not of that frigid school 
Who gauge affection by the rule : 
My heart is not a lady's lute 
That every maid may tune to suit ; 
My love has but a single string, 
Who touches that its wealth can bring. 
My blood runs wild with tender fires ! 



20 i A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

I dream en wrapt with soft desires ! 

But woe betide the hapless he 

Shall stand between my love and me ! 

My hatred is no common hate, 

Nor time, nor change can it abate ; 

Dark purposes teem in my brain, 

If banished soon return again : 

And strive against it as I may 

I cannot check my passion's sway. 

When smarting 'neath the scourge of wrong 

For quick revenge alone I long. 

To be betrayed by one I trust 

Is to my heart a poniard thrust : 

But to be wronged by those loved well, 

Steeps all my soul in gall of hell ! 

It is my purpose to relate 
A story of my love and hate. 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 21 

Fast by the Capitol resides 
A Senator well-known to fame ; 
A daughter o'er bis house presides 
(Pauline shall be her only name.) 
And she is young, and she is fair, 
As winged cherubim on high ; 
Pactolus has enriched her hair, 
And heaven's own blue is in her eye. 

How she touched the sounding keys ! 

Eippliug o'er their pearl with ease ! 

Fairy fingers flitting fleet, 

Sounding strains so strangely sweet ! 

Saug she with such wond'rous skill 

As to make my senses thrill ; 

And I listened, lingered long 

Bound in subtile chain of song ! 

Could I see her seraph face, 

And my heart not own her grace T 

Could I see her sumptuous form, 



22 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

And my bosom not grow warm? 

Could I hear her silver strains, 

And deny to wear her chains ? 

Kay, I bowed to her alone, 

Humbly knelt before her throne, 

At her feet poured my soul's treasure, 

Yielded without stint or measure ! 
Her cheek was some pink-tinted shell, 

Her cold-white bosom Arctic snow ; 
Her glorious, odorous tresses fell 

A shower of gold her waist below. 
I swear, her beauty drove me mad ! 

Her hands ! were e'er such dainties seen ! 
The rose-red nectarine lips she had 

Bright gleams of pearls there flashed between. 
She was no prude, as time has proved, 

Either in sentiment or pose : 
Her eye encouraged — her tongue reproved, 

It all was art that seemed repose. 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Yet she could smile tho' icy cold, 

And kiss a lie in feigning love ; 
And she could glow with warmth untold 

When naught of passion did her move: 
And she could school her silver tongue, 

Sad as sea-surges when they grieve ; 
And gloat on hearts with anguish wrung, 

And seem a saint, and still deceive. 
I told my tale as lover's will, 

She heard as modest maidens do ; 
Her whispered answer sent a thrill 

Of happiness my hosom through — 
She said she loved, and I believed ; 
I trusted her — and was deceived ! 

A friend I had of Latin birth, 
An artist of acknowledged worth ; 
His courtly mien and handsome face 
In bower and hall found ample grace. 



24 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Caraffa was the artist's name, 
And to the Gapitol he came 
To ply his art, and see the town ; 
For skill had won him much renown. 
This girlish Tuscan seemed my Mend, 
And hours together we would spend ; 
His converse ever was of art, 
And mine, alas, was of the heart. 
I told him of the fair Pauline, 
A maiden fit for beauty's queen, 
That she should reign with regal grace, 
By royal right of lovely face. 
Caraffa laughed, and shook his head : 
" Show me your paragon," he said, 
" And if she prove so wonderous fair 
Her portrait I will paint with care, 
And your Pauline shall henceforth be 
The sweet genius of Liberty." 
Full much I longed to have him trace 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 25 

The marvelous beauty of her face ; 
And she consenting — he begun 
The work which has my life undone ! 

Ere long Pauline displayed a change, 
Her ways anon grew cold and strange ; 
Reserve's chill mantle seemed to fall, 
And shroud her spirit like a pall. 
When by her side I chanced to be 
Her manner, erst so frank and free, 
Had lost its wonted cordial tone, 
And she seemed pleased to be alone. 
Abstract, and dreamy she would walk, 
Ajid scarce reply to all my talk — 
The mind of her I held so dear 
Seemed wandering in another sphere. 

The day drew near with laggard stride, 
When Pauline was to be my bride; 
I bought her gems of rare device, 



26 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

I gave her gifts of princely price ; 
And lavished all that gold could buy, 
To deck her form, or please her eye ; 
And dreamed sweet dreams of bliss divine, 
What time that I might call her mine. 

The night before our wedding day, 

Unto her side I took my way; 

But when about to ring the bell, 

A sudden fancy on me fell. 

Carafta's merry laugh I heard, 

As silvery as the song of bird : 

I did not ring; but cautious drew, 

And gazed a latticed window through, 

Whose clustering vines obscured the view. 

About the walls rare pictures hung, 

And naptha lamps their radiance flung: 

Ormolu, buhl, and objects Wart; 

Were ranged by bronze and Sevres ware; 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 4 27 

Marqueterie, and flowers form part 
Of garniture both rich and rare ; 
Groups by Costou, and Can ova, 
The shimmering marble mantle graced; 
And tazzes from famed Genoa, 
Wrought with the most exquisite taste. 

My hand lay on the window sill, 
Within the room was wond'rous still, 
And hidden by the leafy screen 
Spell-bound I looked upon the scene. 
My senses reeled, e'en as I gazed — 
Her perfidy my soul amazed ! 

Her head was pillowed on his breast; 
She felt his heart ! she'd oft felt mine ! 

His arms around her form did rest 
Beneath the candelabra's shine. 

I saw their glued lips — heard their sighs, 
Marked well the transport of their bliss ; 

They stood confessed before my eyes, 



28 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

One pulse, one breath, one thought, one kiss! 

Her glorious wealth of amber hair, 
Was mingled with his locks of jet — 

I gnashed my teeth, the sight, I swear, 
This brain of fire may ne'er forget ! 
My sight grew dim, my blood waxed chill, 
My limbs would scarce obey my will, 
As I turned from the hateful sight, 
With thoughts far darker than the night; 
And with an oath too dread to name, 
I fled as stealthy as I came ! 

Not mine the soul to tamely bear, 
A wrong that drove me to despair! 
Not mine the soul to fawn and nod, 
And kiss the hand that held the rod ! 
Not mine the heart to tamely bleed 
Because a woman wrought the deed! 
No! mine the heart so soft in love, 
In hate as dire as bolts of Jove ! 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 29 

To the Capitol my steps were bent, 

And to wreak revenge was my intent. 

I paced the cold marmorean pave 

Which harsh and sullen echoes gave; 

Each dastard passion then was rife, 

And rent my bosom as a knife. 

The huge white Dome was heaved on high 

Until it pierced the evening sky — 

Few grander sights are seen than this 

American Acropolis ! 

Wildly I walked in my fierce unrest, 

The poisonous draught stung deep in my breast ; 

The daedal chalice that held my bliss, 

Had proven as poison as Nonacris ! 

My golden visions, alas, had fled, 

Each rose-hued picture was sear and dead; 

The dove of hope had flown from my heart, 

And naught remained but the mad'ning smart! 

Naught but canker that gnawed my soul, 



30 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Naught but hatred beyond control! 

Hate for the man who had caused my shame, 

Contempt for the woman the world will blame! 

I wandered 'neath the self same shade, 
Where Clay and Webster oft had strayed; 
Where Calhoun paced with pregnant mind, 
And Douglass did retirement find. 
How grand the work of scanning o'er 
The mighty names that are no more; 
The names that once such lustre shed 
Now slumbering with the silent dead. 
Their fame will long survive the tomb, 
And immortelles will ever bloom 
Above the consecrated mound 
Where patriots sleep in rest profound. 
Tho' ended is their fitful race, 
And strangers now are in their place; 
The teeming times are thickly fraught 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 31 

With thought they uttered, deeds they wrought ! 
The works of men will ever last — 
When we from scenes of life have passed 
We leave our works, our worth, our fame, 
Our honors, and, perchance, our shame : 
The form grows cold and comes to naught: 
But ne'er will perish deed or thought! 

The sky o'erhead portended storm, 
The clouds rolled up in threatning form 

By wind and thunder driven; 
And river and hill lay still as death, 
And night crouched low and held her breath 

Till the storm-shock should be given! 

And as I paced the darkening shade 
A hand was on my shoulder laid; 
I turned, and in that lonely place, 
My rival stood before my face! 
And did I crush him then and there, 



32 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

The hated cause of my despair 1 

Ah, no! I stood transfixed and dumb — 

Caraffa's hour had not yet come ! 

He chatted gayly of the night, 

Of fountain's gush, and glimmering light; 

Extolled the glories of the Dome ; 

Drew parallels with scenes in Kome: 

Talked learnedly, beneath the trees, 

Of pediment, fagade, and frieze, 

Of Vatican and ancient art 

The while I cursed him in my heart. 

A straggling moon-beam lit his face, 

With almost superhuman grace; 

It crowned his lustrous raven hair, 

With halo seraph well might wear; 

He stood in beauty like some saint 

Which monkish limners joyed to paint. 

"Come to the Dome," at length he said, 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 33 

" And view the scene beneath us spread ; 

An idle hour we may beguile, 

And pleasure will repay the toil. 

Erelong a storm will o'er us break, 

The sky o'erhead becomes opaque; 

And 'twill repay one far to roam 

To hear a storm break o'er the Dome. 

Fair Arlington may thence be seen, 

Beyond the river's silvery sheen; 

And Alexandria far below, 

While at our feet the ebb and flow 

Of the city's tide, is plain in view — 

Who shun such sights I trust are few." 

And then his nervous footsteps rang, 
As up the massive stairs he sprang ; 
I followed him without a word, 
And scarce an utterance I heard ; 
So deep I brooded in my heart, 



34 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

The wrong in which he'd played a part. 

He halted at the Lower Wing: 

" Tis, doubtless, an unusual thing 

To enter here at such an hour, 

But, thanks to fate, I have the power ; 

The key I hold will ope the door, 

I've entered many a time before : 

' Twould seem when I am quite alone, 

My work has fuller, mellower tone." 

The portal opened with a clang, 

Which through the vaulted passage rang 

We entered and he led the way, 

Through corridors which in the day 

Seem like some fabled fairy cave, 

With fretted arch, and shimmering nave, 

While gleam of gold and porphyry, 

Were like the spell of sorcery. 

He drew a lamp from some quaint place, 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 35 

With movements I could barely trace; 
Its flame arose with sickly flare, 
And lit the hall with a feeble glare ; 
As if unwilling through the gloom, 
To light its master to his doom ! 
Encaustic tiling formed the floor, 
Laid in an exquisite mosaic; 
And foliated pillars bore 
Designs Pompeian and Hebriac. 
And all along the vaulted way, 
There gleamed a gorgeous garniture ; 
Bright seccos glowed in brave array, 
Which ages hence will rest secure. 
Then on the eager artist sped, 
Through many a twist and turn he led ; 
Through passage flanked by humid wall, 
Broad corridor and lofty hall, 
While groined roof and architrave, 
Weird echoes to our footsteps gave. 



•>() A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Small pause is made to gaze or glance, 
On fluted marble ordonnance ; 
Entablature and cornice gleam, 
Beneath our pale lucernal beam ; 
And in its dim uncertain sheeu 
Alto-relievos could be seen 
Of intricate and vexed design, 

By Oausici, and Gevelot ; 
And in the same faint flickering shine, 

Auother by Oapellano. 
And spectral painting, too, were there, 
By Trumbull, Venderlyn, and Weire; 
Powell, and Chapman, — works more grand 
Have seldom come from limner's hand. 

Full soon we reached the sinuous stair, 
Which girds the broad Eotunda round ; 
The artist led the way with care, 
And halted oft and looked around 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 37 

To caution me in friendly way, 
Lest I might miss my step and fall ; 
The lamp scarce lit the devious way, 
And shadows lay black as a pall 
As though dread terror shrouded all. 
Pierced was the Dome in many a place, 
Above, around us, and below ; 
Through which the moon-beams soft as snow 
Thrust slender, lance-like shafts of light; 
Fulgent for but a little space, 
Then melting in the shades of night. 
Still on and up we held our way ; 
His heart all joy, and mine a prey 
To evil thoughts, and brooding hate, 
For vengeful mood upon me sate, 
And through my every fibre ran, 
And made me more of fiend than man ! 
At last the dizzy height we paced, 
Where pencil of Brumidi traced, 



38 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

That strange melange of fact and folly ; 

Where men and Graces measure keep, 

And in the wanton waltzes sweep, 

And Washington appears so jolly. 

And dire monstrosities were seen, 

Of sages draped in red and green. 

It may be by the lamp's dim light, 

I did not view the work aright ; 

Such art methought should have a place, 

On some antique Etruscan vase ; 

Since rifled guns but ill accord, 

With sandaled feet, and Roman sword. 

Then spoke ray guide with laughing eyes : 

"I hope to cause you much surprise; 

Gaze on yon fresco, mark it well; 

Long let your eyes upon it dwell ; 

A face is portrayed there most true, 

Which must perforce entrance your view:" 

His bantering words I did not heed : 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 39 

God help Oaraffa in his need ! 

Like poet in some blissful dream 
The young enthusiast did seem; 
He gazed as though his ravished eyes, 
Saw pleasing scenes 'neath other skies ; 
Whilst 'neath our feet a dread abyss 
Yawned gloomy as the brow of Dis ; 
And he who gazed might fancy well 
He stood upon the verge of hell. 

Meanwhile the storm in fury broke, 
With angry gust, and levin stroke ; 
The thunder rolled with boom and crash, 
And fell the rain with sudden dash ; 
The sounding roof was beat by hail, 
Like grain beneath the thresher's flail. 
Wild daemons seemed to ride the blast, 
And roar in mockery as they pass'd ; 
While voices seemed to come and go, 



40 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Among the corridors below, 

What time the thunder broke amain 

Above the din of wind and rain. 

I gazed upon the artist's form, 

He seemed unconscious of the storm ; 

His face was towards the ceiling turned, 

And rapture in his dark eye burned. 

Intense and earnest was his look, 

That of a reverence partook ; 

A deep soul-worship one could trace, 

In every lineament of his face. 

As one who sees the Host arise 

Before his penitential eyes, 

Obscured by violet vapors, flung 

From burning censers widely swung, 

Caraffa stood with upturned face 

As though invoking Heavenly grace. 

My glances wandered over all, 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 41 

The pictured tracery of the wall ; 

And there a face enchained my sight, 

Despite the dim, uncertain light. 

Then seethed my blood with sudden start! 

Then fury raged within my heart ! 

Then senses reeled ! I gasped for air ! 

I saw the face of Pauline there ! 

Hark ! how the wild winds weep and wail ! 
Hark ! how grim genii goad the gale ! 
The tempest howls in fury great, 
Bound peristyle and stylobate ; 
The reveling storm-sprites shriek and yell, 
Like spirits 'neath the scourge of hell ; 
While quivers all the ponderous place, 
As when Olympus shakes his base f 
On ! on ! night furies with all speed ! 
God help Oaraffa in his need ! 

The driving rain fierce onslaught made 



42 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 



Agaiust each beetling colonnade ; 

The lightning flash'd with crash and blare, 

And lit the scene with fiendish glare. 

Boom on, dread thunder, in your sport ! 

Frown, scowling canopy of swart ! 

Blow, storm -king, all your whirlwinds blow ! 

Or drown, or mitigate my woe ! 

Lash into rage each neighing steed! 

God help Caraffa in his need ! 

"Vile wretch !" I cried with vengeful sneer; 
" Was it for this you brought me here ! 
Your craven soul too well I know ; 
You fain would gloat upon my woe ! 
Well may you curse the hapless day 
Your shadow fell across my way : 
Hate has more power than love or greed ; 
Meet night is this for violent deed ! 
No one is near the tale to tell — 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 43 

Down ! down ! " I cried," down ! down to hell ! n 

I seized the artist's trembling form, 

Amid the howling of the storm ; 

And in my fierce and angry clasp, 

He was a fawn in leopard's grasp. 

He shrieked for mercy, but in vaiu ; 

His cries were drowned by battering rain ; 

I raised his figure light and frail 

With ease above the iron rail, 

Unmindful of his prayers of woe, 

To cast him headlong far below. 

The ponderous balister he caught, 

And loud his patron saint besought : 

High o'er the chasm he hung in air, 

With strength imparted by despair. 

His terror made him wond'rous strong, 

He grasped the rail both stout and long : 

I could not loose those slender hands, 

They clung as close as iron bands. 



44 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Great beads of sweat stood on his brow ; 
(In fancy I can see him now) ; 
His face was blanched a ghastly white, 
His hair on end stood with affright ; 
His pleading look, his piteous cry, 
Had softened one less hard than I. 

I smote him in his upturned face; 
That blow redounds to my disgrace ! 
His slender hands relaxed at last ; 
I saw the blood gush thick and fast ; 
I heard his last despairing yell, 
As from the giddy height he fell; 
And in another instant more, 
A crash upon the distant floor. 

Such sounds as then rang in mine ear, 
Not oft are heard in mundane sphere ; 
The echoes of his last wild cry, 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 45 

Seemed answered from the vibrant sky; 

The thunder boomed with greater force, 

The bellowing winds roared still more hoarse ; 

While livid lightning leaped and flashed, 

And rain with fieree vehemence dashed; 

It seemed as though the power Divine, 

Displayed his wrath at deed of mine; 

For horrid clangor or tilled the Dome, 

With shout of goblin, and of gnome, 

And shook the ponderous masonry, 

With all its pomp and blazonry, 

As though all imps in Satan's realm 

Were there my guilty soul to whelm; 

Then suddenly as by a spell, 

A deep, unbroken silence fell, 

Save when a distant thunder-cloud, 

Sent ominous mutterings, deep and loud. 

Now that my rival was no more, 



4() A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

A mortal terror on me bore. 

Far down below me lay the corse, 

A shapeless bulk which ne'er might move ; 

And T, the victim of remorse 

Stood trembling in the height above. 

Ah ! mortal man may never know 

The agony, the exquisite woe, 

Which crushed me with a mountain's weight, 

When I recalled my crime so great. 

I groaned in. horror as I stood 

There, guilty of Oaraffa's blood : 

Too late I felt the impious stain 

Would brand me with the mark of Cain ; 

And till eternity grew gray, 

My crime might not be washed away. 

In vain I reeled beneath the blow 
Which had rebounded from my foe ; 
In vain I cursed the hapless hour 



A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 47 

Which threw my rival in my power. 
Like some vile serpent held at bay, 
That cannot strike its wary prey, 
Which keeps securely from its path 
The while it hisses in its wrath, 
Until its fury runs so high 
It strikes at every thing that's nigh : 
Then 'gainst itself it will engage, 
And blindly strike in baffled rage, 
Though every stroke is full of paiu, 
And every wound a mortal bane. 
So had I blindly dealt a blow, 
Which gulfed me in a sea of woe ; 
My crime could be forgotten never, 
My days of peace were gone forever ! 

With heart surcharged with deep despair, 

I left the dark and silent Dome ; 

And downward traced the winding stair, 



48 A MYSTERY OF THE DOME. 

Resolved 'mid other scenes to roam. 

I reached the street, I scarce know how, 

Such anguish wrung ray fevered brow : 

I sought the city and its din — 

Night stretched her hand and drew rae in ! 

At last the roseate morning broke, 

And tuned spheres their chords awoke; 

And silver strains so sweetly rang, 

As mount and sea together sang. 

The twittering birds vied in their trills; 

The cascades leaped upon the hills ; 

And votive flowers their incense paid, 

As day, in golden robes arrayed, 

Came forth with smiles and glorious beams, 

Refreshed by sleep and happy dreams ! 

Battered and bruised with many a wound, 
The corse of Carafifa w T as found ; 
So rent in its tremendous fall, 



A MYSTBBY OF THE DOME. 41) 

To man it bore but semblance small : 

It lay upon the marble floor, 

A shapeless mass and nothing more ! 

A fragment of the skull lay here, 

A severed arm gleamed ghastly near ; 

A riven bone protruded there, 

Mid gouts of blood, and locks of hair — 

Flesh, bones, and teeth were scattered round, 

As grain is cast upon the ground. 

'Twas long before the populace knew 
Whose mangled body oppressed their view. 
But none e'er dreamed that a murderous might 
Had hurled him from the terrible height. 
Twas thought, unpitied and unseen, 
He'd embraced grim death, and not — Pauline ! 



TWO FUGITIVES 



jMctry ^uai\trelle. 



Mid the clash and the crash of the braggart drums, 
In the beams of morning bold Stonewall conies ! 
And suddenly bays the watchful dog- 
As his column breaks from its shroud of fo<s ! 



'& 



Each courser's mane with the dew is damp, 
And the streets resound with a martial tramp, 
And each soldier's face gleams stern and brown 
As the serried squadrons come marching down ! 

Lo ! the trumpets blare and the bugles play, 
And silver shimmers mid gold and gray ! 
While, bound to the fleet Avar stallions' tails, 
The Stars and Stripes inglorious trails ! 



54 MARY QUANTRELLE. 

It was thus bold Jackson's warlike band 
Passed Frederick City, in Maryland ; 
While his rumbling caissons, far below, 
Growled loud defiance to Northern foe ! 

The teeth of the dragon had long been sown, 
And Liberty trembled upon her throne ; 
For a tyrant sought to overwhelm the free, 
And the blood flowed deep from sea to sea ! 

With dauntless mien, and an eye of scorn, 
Dame Quantrelle stood in her door that morn, 
While the hostile column, with banners high, 
And cymbaled music marched slowly by. 

In time like a chime was the click and clank 
Of scabbard against the courser's flank ; 
And eastward, as far as the eye could see, 
An army wound o'er hill and lea. 



MARY QUANTRELLE. 55 

A serpentine line the mist half veils, 

While bayonets gleam like a viper's scales ; 

Weak, wavering women wildly wept, 

While that serpent rattled, and hissed, and crept ! 

When the sun went down on the night before, 
The old flag floated o'er many a door ; 
When morning broke and the foe came down, 
But one could be seen in all the town. 

In brave disdain of the raiding band, 
Dame Quantrelle held a flag in her hand, 
And waved it wide in the dewy breeze, 
And, like the buzzing of angry bees, 

A threatening murmur at once arose 
Along the line of astounded foes ; 
And the soldiers glared with eyes of flame, 
But her Spartan courage naught could tame. 



56 MARY QUANTKELLB. 

" Down with that flag !" cried one of the crew, 
When the Stars and Stripes met the soldiers' view ; 
And a burly sergeant, grimed and browned, 
Sprang on the porch with a panther's bound. 

And while hoarse plaudits around him rise, 
He rends the banner before her eyes, 
And throws the fragments into the street, 
Where the soldiers tread them under their feet. 

Still stood the lady firm as an oak, 
And a look of scorn o'er her visage broke, 
And her blue eyes flashed fearless and stern, 
And an angry flush on her cheek did burn. 

And the man was cowed by the woman's pride, 
And a blush of shame his bronzed face dyed. 
" Misguided coward," she calmy said, 
" Shame and dishonor will follow your tread ; 



MARY QUANTRELLE. 57 

Our flag is sacred, and for this deed 

A traitor's doom shall be your meed. 

Oh, God forbid that a son of mine 

Should raise his arm against Freedom's shrine ! " 

Then she took a flag from a friend hard by, 
And proudly waved it again on high ; 
While close around her the foeman pressed, 
With glittering guns aimed at her breast. 

The roweled heel of the sergeant rang, 
As upon the porch again he sprang ; 
And he tore the flag from the lady's hand, 
And threw it 'neath the feet of his band. 

And a hideous cheer arose once more, 
Deep and hoarse as the breaker's roar, 
And from bearded lips the word was sped, 
" Let her die the death !" the soldiers said. 



58 MARY QUANTRELLE. 

A rider with steed caparisoned gay, 

Now breaks through the hedge of steel and gray 

And the rabble parts to right, and left, 

As billows part by a vessel cleft. 

" Hold ! cried the horseman reining his steed, 
Disgrace not our cause by such a deed ! " 
And the men slunk back, awed and abashed ! 
As a pack of hounds which the whip has lashed. 

On moves the column with arms agleam, 
And banners afloat in the morning's beam, — 
Ah ! many a soldier who rides to-day, 
Will never return from this bold foray ! 

# # * # # 

Oh, greater than greatest Spartan dame ! 
Oh, heroine of unending fame ! 
What might can the Union of States e'er part, 
When our women show such strength of heart ! 



MARY QUANTRELLE. 5<> 

( )h, bravest of all our sisters brave, 
Can tyranny e'er our sons enslave ? 
What terrors can daunt the soldiers true 
Who can boast of mothers as staunch as you i 

Lo ! o'er all the land from east to west, 
The old flag floats the proudest and best ! 
Its gules and azure in triumph wave 
O'er blue and gray in a common grave ! 

The peaceful pipe and lute are heard, 
And our souls no more with wrath are stirred ; 
And eyes of love and tenderness beam, 
Which erst have flashed like a dagger's gleam ! 

And our lovely sisters joy to twine, 
Bright immortelles for the hero's shrine ; 
And North and South shall be proud alway 
Of the dame who stood by our flag that day ! 



S ^ummei { j\Ti^l\t. 

Husbed is the swallow's brood beneath tbe eaves, 
Hushed is tbe low of kine among the hills; 

The weary earth no longer toils and grieves, 
But grateful slumber all her bosom tills. 

A dreamy, drowsy hum comes from the bees, 
Who guard their Hyblean treasures till tbe 
morn ; 

Opaline dew-drops glisten on the leas, 

And pearls bedeck the golden-crested corn. 

The butterfly sleeps on the thistle's bloom, 
With folded wings ornate with floss and flake ; 

And from the distant torrent through the gloom 
Accented echoes tremble as they brake. 



A SUMMER NIGHT. 61 

Anon the tnneful cricket wakes his note, 

A minstrel be, who sings his mistress' praise; 

And on the stilly air so gently float 
The odorous scents of Flora's sweet estrays. 

Lo ! in the North the dark Egyptian queen 
Displays her gorgeous jewels to the night, 

Who stretches forth his mantle as a screen, 
And strives to shut their radiance from the 
sight. 

The wanton night-wind toys the ripening grain, 
While Hesper pales his shimmering beacon light ; 

Calm beat the pulses of the tranquil main, 
And waves of sound break on the hush of night. 

The light-winged Zephyr climbs yon lattice thro', 
His bland breath filling all the ambient air; 

His fair, young visage bright with smiles and dew, 
And scent of clover in his amber hair. 



62 A SUMMER NIGHT. 

The soul has harmonies of sense unknown, 
Strains too ethereal for mortal ears, 

As angels hear the soft, liquescent tone 
A wakened by the vibrant crystal spheres. 

Ah, me ! what thought a summer evening brings ! 

What sweet beautitudes the bosom fill ! 
The buoyant spirit soars on franchised wings, 

And revels in the dews the heavens distill ! 

Forgotten is the world, its strife, its guile ; 

We float above its traffic and its din ; 
We feel the selfishness of beauty's smile, 

And learn that brilliant dolls are void within ! 

Oh, summer night! Oh, fair florescent vales! 

Where cattle chew their cuds by limpid stream ; 
I long me for the hush of sylvan dales 

Where I may lie upon the grass and dream ! 



A SUMMER NIGHT. 63 

With slumber on each sweet, voluptuous lid, 
Fair Daphne lies upon her couch of snow ; 

Ah ! wherefore should such loveliness be hid ? 
T fain would see her pure dreams come and go ! 



ERRATA. 

On page 9. "Beleaguer" should read beleaguer. On page 35. "Hebriac" 
should read Hebraic. 



